A Burden Shared
by Frisco
Summary: Unwilling to burden the others, each team member tries to endure a personal crisis alone. A difficult mission reminds them how much they need each other.


**A Burden Shared**

John hung back, dribbling patiently while his guys got set on the makeshift court someone had created on the north pier. He grinned at Lorne then faked left and moved right, shooting a bounce pass at Ronon who snatched the ball, turned, elbowed Reardon in the face and dunked with room to spare.

"Son of a bitch!" Reardon's shout was muffled by the hand he had slapped over his nose and mouth. He glanced down at his hand, now smeared with blood, and back up at Ronon. "I have a date tonight with that blonde in botany."

Ronon shrugged. "It'll make you look tough."

"It'll make me look like I got beat up."

"Go see Keller," John suggested. "She'll have some magic potion to make you beautiful."

Lorne huffed a laugh as he handed Reardon a towel. "Nothing is that powerful."

"Funny." Reardon got to his feet, dabbing at his nose with the towel. "I get at least two free throws for that."

John shook his head. "No bleeding on the court, Lieutenant. Go, get that looked at before it swells up like a balloon."

"Yes, sir." Reardon headed toward the door with a final glare at Ronon. "I want a rematch tomorrow."

"You're on," Ronon called after him.

John wiped his face with a towel from his bag then slung it around his neck. "Seriously, big guy, you can't beat people up on the basketball court, and you know it. You've been playing for four years."

"Makes it more interesting."

"Makes you foul out of the game," Lorne said. "By my count, that was five."

Ronon looked unrepentant. "Dumb game anyway. Not much in it to keep a warrior's skills sharp."

John glanced at his watch, reluctant to have this conversation again. "Let's call it a day, boys. I'll see you at staff meeting at 0700." He nodded at Lorne, waved at the rest of the players, and grabbed his bag, shifting mentally to the long list of duties still waiting for him before lights out. Forty-five new military personnel on Apollo's last trip and the Daedalus was bringing in thirty-seven more. Good thing Atlantis was the size of Manhattan, though he still didn't know where he was going to put them all. For now. Once they finished training, they would be assigned to a garrison. Of course, then he'd have another new group coming in.

Ronon jogged up next to him. "Don't know why you like that game."

"Because it's fun." John stopped at the doors and turned to face Ronon. "Not everything has to be a life-or-death struggle. Basketball is about athleticism, skill, and finesse. It works your hand/eye coordination, your depth perception, and your stamina as well as teaching teamwork. It's not about beating the shit out of the opposing players." John held his eye. "Even if you're the most talented guy out there, you still have to play by the rules in order to win."

"Thinking like that will get you killed."

"Thinking like that builds discipline." John walked inside, entered the transporter, selected crew quarters, and stepped out. "There are times to break the rules, but playing basketball isn't one of them. You know that." He stopped in front of his door and held Ronon's eye. "What's bothering you?"

Ronon's gaze shifted sideways. "Nothing."

"Has McKay been giving you lessons in lying? Because that really sucked."

Ronon's mouth twitched then his face went blank. "Don't know what you mean."

Avoiding grief was a dance John knew well, and he recognized it in Ronon's eyes, saw it manifest itself in the short fuse, the restlessness, the jitters, the irrational responses. But the only thing John was worse at than expressing his own feelings was dealing with the emotions of others. Where was Teyla when he needed her?

"Fine, forget I asked." John palmed the door open, feeling the burden for his friend grow heavier. "If you change your mind—"

"There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you." McKay stumbled over a chair as he hurried down the hallway. "Why do you keep moving these around? I almost break my neck every time I come here." He barely paused to breathe. "I want to change tomorrow's mission destination. Teyla says there's a planet reporting an evil moon. I think we should check it out."

John did a double take. "What did you say?"

"Planet, evil moon, mission tomorrow."

"Who are you, and what have you done with Rodney McKay?"

McKay's face scrunched in confusion. "What?"

"Seriously?" John glanced between Ronon and McKay. "Ronon thinks discipline isn't important and you want to check out an 'evil moon.' Is this a joke or did I suddenly enter the Twilight Zone?"

McKay looked at Ronon who shrugged. "Well, I don't know why you'd be surprised at his lack of discipline. Have you seen him eat?"

Ronon laid a hand on the back of McKay's neck and squeezed. "You ever want to eat again?"

"Easy." McKay wriggled out of Ronon's grasp. "I stopped falling for your threats a long time ago." He slid sideways until he was almost behind John. "And I know where you keep your knives."

Ronon grinned. "Not all of them."

"Yes, well…"

"McKay, focus." John sighed, feeling his left eye twitch. "Back to the evil moon."

"Oh, right. Teyla says the people on M3W-712 are reporting that an evil moon should be rising this week."

John pinched the bridge of his nose. "Get to the part where you started believing in evil moons."

"Are you high?" McKay asked. "What makes you think I believe in evil moons?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe the fact that you want to go see one?" John leaned against the wall and folded his arms over his chest, letting his bag drop to the floor.

"I don't believe it's really evil. However, according to legend, every two hundred years the evil moon rises and wreaks havoc – monsoons, earthquakes, tsunamis, tornados, the works." McKay held out his tablet. "I checked the database. Nothing there about weather experiments on that planet. But the locals say it started about the time the Ancients left. That can't be a coincidence."

John pushed off the wall. "You think something's causing it."

"Has to be. Plus every two hundred years? If these people can measure the frequency to the point of knowing what week it's going to start…" McKay waggled his brows.

"And you believe them."

"I believe Teyla," McKay corrected. "She's been right every time so far, no matter how ridiculous it sounded – the seer, visions of Kanaan." His eyes pinched tight. "And if you hadn't listened to her and Ronon about that shrine a few months ago…"

John couldn't argue with that. Pegasus was filled with the unexplainable and extraordinary, but he was still surprised that McKay was open to going without hard scientific evidence. And the way Ronon was staring at McKay like he'd grown another head confirmed that John wasn't alone.

"Okay," John said. "Send the MALP—"

"Already done." McKay poked at his tablet. "Everything's in normal ranges. Temperature is a little warm for my taste—"

"When isn't it?" Ronon mumbled.

"—but the gate is on a cliff near the village so we won't have far to go. By my calculations, their sundown should be around our midmorning. We won't even have to adjust our scheduled departure time," McKay finished with a triumphant grin.

"Have you run it by Woolsey?" John asked.

"Of course. How else was I going to get the MALP sent?"

John lifted a brow. "Perfect. Then I'll let you update all the schedules."

McKay opened his mouth in protest then snapped it shut. "Fine. But if the cook yells at me again for making him mess up his white board, I will not be responsible for my actions."

"Good," John replied. "And when I find your dead body, I'll know who to blame it on."

"I'm laughing on the inside," McKay snapped.

With a chuckle and a shake of his head, John watched McKay quick-step his way down the hall, and then turned his attention back to Ronon. "No more beating up the Marines on the basketball court. Understood?"

Ronon rolled his eyes. "Yeah."

John stepped inside his quarters. "Want a beer?"

"Nah. Got some stuff to do."

"Suit yourself. See you at dinner."

John tossed his bag in the corner and sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the closing barrier between him and Ronon and wishing he had a clue what to do. With a sigh, he turned on his laptop and reread the eyes-only communiqué O'Neill had sent him a week ago, still at a loss how to answer.

xxx

Ronon waited until the door closed before he let his face twist with the snarl he'd been hiding for most of the day. He stomped down the hall, kicking a chair and slamming a fist against the transporter doors until they opened with a jerk. He stepped in and stabbed at the map, not caring where he went. The transporter deposited him in an unused section of the city, one that would be a perfect running spot – full of debris and other obstacles to keep his senses sharp. Ronon inhaled the musty air, sniffing for anything unexpected, then took off down the darkened hallway.

His pounding boots echoed in the empty space, and he lost himself in the rhythm, the splash of puddles, and the beating of his heart. He leaped over the crumpled remains of a chair, skirted around the twisted metal that had been a door, ducked under a groaning beam with wires that clung to him like a spider's web.

His dreads whipped behind him. Blood rushed in his ears. His lungs couldn't keep up. He ran anyway, as fast and as far as he could, the memories chasing him like the Wraith had, nipping at his heels, never letting him rest.

Ronon rounded the corner and skidded through a puddle. Chunks of concrete blocked most of the corridor. Overtaxed legs couldn't get him high enough, and the toe of his boot caught the edge of the rubble, vaulting him over the pile and sending him sprawling. He slid a ways on his stomach before coming to rest against the wall in an undignified heap.

The all-consuming rage blasted through him again, and he screamed until his throat was raw. Ragged breaths hissed through gritted teeth as he rolled into a seated position and leaned his head against the wall, propping his forearms on his knees and letting his hands dangle, suddenly too exhausted to fight anymore.

The memories washed over him – Melena's soft touch and the smile that made his knees weak, his mother's laughter as he and his brothers carried her like a queen on her birthday, his father's eyes welling with pride as he took top honors in strategy and weapons, his sister holding her son with one hand and bracing her pregnant belly with the other while she ran from the culling beams.

His head dropped forward as he swallowed thickly and clenched his eyes shut. The grief he'd been too busy to feel until now crushed down on him, wave after wave until he was sure he was drowning. His years as a runner had left him alone with the memory of the attack, but not until he reached Atlantis had he realized the extent of it. Seven years of hope had been obliterated with one video image, but even then he'd had other immediate concerns to focus on – the increased Wraith cullings, then Michael, then the Replicators, moving Atlantis, the missing Athosians. But they'd found the Athosians, killed Michael, destroyed the Replicators. The Wraith were fractured, fighting each other, while Keller was cooking up a retrovirus that ended their ability to feed and the war.

In the past, Ronon's team had distracted him from the grief when things were calm. Sparring with Teyla and Sheppard, teaching McKay self-defense and learning some science in return, movie nights and day trips to the mainland and late night pranks on unsuspecting scientists had occupied his time and his mind. But though they were as close as ever, things were different with his team too now – new relationships and responsibilities keeping them mostly apart when they weren't off-world.

Alone, all he had was his grief, and he didn't know what to do with it. If he acknowledged it, dealt with it like he'd seen Teyla and Rodney and so many others do, what would be left of him? His entire adult life plus part of his childhood had been focused on one thing – defeating the Wraith – and while that was still his goal, the taste of revenge was no longer sweet.

Todd had asked Keller once who the Wraith would be without the war. When she'd repeated it to Ronon, she'd had no idea how close to home the statement had struck.

Who would he be without the war?

"_Ronon?_"

He flinched at Teyla's voice, although the earpiece volume was no louder than usual. He scrubbed his hands over his face, cleared his throat, and activated the radio. "Yeah?"

"_Will you be joining us for dinner?_"

Ronon clenched his fists to stop his hands from shaking. "Not tonight. Got some stuff to finish."

"_Very well. I will see you in the morning_."

He sighed when the frequency clicked clear. He heard the worry and disappointment in her voice along with the promise that while she wouldn't ask him directly, she'd talk around the problem during their mission until he spilled his guts.

Ronon suppressed the urge to go confess now and get it over with. He wasn't ready to let go yet. He climbed to his feet and continued to run.

xxx

"He's not coming?"

Teyla schooled her features then turned and smiled at John. "Not tonight. He says he has—"

"Stuff to do. Yeah, that's what he told me three hours ago." John stirred his chili, keeping his eyes downcast. He was quiet for a minute, his face twitching as it did when he became uncomfortable. "You have any idea what he's grieving over?"

Shock washed over her, though she knew it really shouldn't. John could be very perceptive at times, but she hadn't realized anyone else had sensed Ronon's pain yet. "He has not mentioned anything to me."

"I keep thinking maybe his past is haunting him, but," John gave a half-shrug, "Sateda was destroyed over a decade ago. Can't be that, can it?"

"I am certain that when he is ready to tell us, he will." Teyla smoothed the napkin on her lap and sliced into her pizza. "Ronon knows we will listen when he is ready to talk."

John grunted in reply, his eyes focused on her knife as she cut another bite. "You know you're supposed to eat pizza with your hands, right?"

"I know." Teyla sliced in a hugely exaggerated motion and winked at him. "It is delicious either way."

"You've spent too much time around McKay."

Before Teyla could reply, two very young and very new Marines approached their table. With a nod, she rose to refill her water glass and to give John space to deal with them. She allowed her gaze to wander over the room, wilting a little inside when she realized she barely recognized half the faces. The influx of new personnel had increased as her time on Atlantis had decreased. Not that she regretted spending more time with her people – her Athosian people – but she had always made a point of getting to know every scientist and soldier, learning their skills and their interests, being a voice in team formation and mission assignments based on that knowledge. Elizabeth had valued her input and her ability to read people, as had Samantha. In the chaos that had coincided with Mr. Woolsey's arrival, she had chosen to help her people rebuild their village on New Athos, and by the time she had returned to Atlantis and her team full time, Mr. Woolsey had established his advisors. And while he listened to her and occasionally took her advice, it wasn't the same.

But if she were being completely honest with herself, she wasn't that disappointed. She had a family now; Torren and Kanaan deserved her attention, and she gave every spare moment to them. John might jokingly suggest she spent too much time around Rodney, but she knew it was the opposite. She didn't spend enough time with any of them anymore. Teyla knew Rodney's relationship with Jennifer was blossoming – she could read it in their faces and body language – but she knew little else about what was going on in his life. John did his best to keep up with all of them; however, the new recruits from Earth were dominating his time. Between staff meetings, training exercises, skill evaluations, and missions, he barely had time to eat and sleep, which could explain why he had been more distracted than usual the past week.

Something had been torturing Ronon since they had landed on Earth. His distress had increased in the past few weeks, but his eyes had told her not to pry. Now that it had grown to the point that others were noticing, she would push him a little harder. Perhaps a sparring session would loosen his tongue, if he didn't share with her during the mission the next day. They had not sparred in quite some time, and she could use the workout. The last time she had swung a bantos rod had been on New Athos with Halling as they practiced while they argued over the fate of their people. He was right, she knew he was, but she mourned the thought of combining their culture with others. Slowly their ways would merge with the ways of other societies, and the distinctiveness of Athosian culture would disappear. But the sad truth was they could no longer survive on their own – too much to do with too few to do it.

In the end, she had bowed her head in agreement and helped him pack the contents of his tent. She had held in the tears until she returned to Atlantis, and then she curled on her bed, clutching the blanket Charin had woven for her, and cried herself to sleep.

Kanaan was helping with the move to Tipul, once home to a vibrant people who had become victims of Michael's experiments. Teyla had yet to mention it to her teammates, unwilling to add to their burdens. She had given the new gate address to Hannah, Mr. Woolsey's assistant, so that they would know how to reach Kanaan in an emergency.

She was only now really beginning to understand the enormity of what Ronon had lost.

"Teyla?" John called, waving at her. "You gonna finish your dinner?"

She glanced around as she returned to her seat. "Have they already gone?"

John crushed a few crackers and stirred them into his chili. "Who?"

"The two Marines you were speaking with."

"Oh, them. Yeah. They left a few minutes ago. You've been staring into space for a while." John's gaze darted to hers then back down at the table. "You okay?"

"I am…" Teyla hesitated, tasting the lie. "My people are having—"

John's hand flew to his ear. "What is it, McKay? Of course, we're at dinner. It's dinnertime." He made a rolling motion with his hand as he smiled apologetically at her. "Yes, we'll be here for a few minutes." His gaze lost focus. "What experiment?"

Teyla laughed to herself. Her heart had rejoiced at the friendship that had formed between two of the loneliest people she had ever met. At times they reminded her of her cousin's twins – constantly bickering until the other needed something then pretending they hadn't almost died trying to provide it. John trusted easily but never revealed much, while Rodney revealed everything and didn't trust anyone. Over the years, John had learned to open up a tiny bit and Rodney had learned to trust. No one had been more shocked than Teyla when he believed her about the moon on Nesac, or M3W-712 as he called it. She had long hoped for the day when someone would believe her when she related a bit of Pegasus lore. She had expected it to be John. And though he would do anything for her, go anywhere based on her word, he would do it because he trusted her, not because he believed what she said. A subtle difference perhaps, but a difference nonetheless.

When she had told Rodney of the report from Nesac, she had braced herself for the scathing laughter and look of scorn she usually got when she talked about the peoples of Pegasus. When instead he'd leaned forward, eyes wide and sparkling with interest, she'd had to draw on all her skills to prevent herself from bursting into tears. Rodney had believed her, had trusted that she knew what she was talking about. Even now, she could barely wrap her mind around it.

"McKay's almost here." John waved at her cold pizza slice with his spoon. "Better eat that now if you want it." He frowned. "What were we talking about?"

Teyla reached for her fork then changed her mind, and picked up her pizza with both hands. "You were going to tell me about your new personnel."

xxx

"New personnel suck." Rodney set his tray on the table and dropped into a chair. "Sam needs to stop telling the IOA how understaffed we are."

"We are understaffed, McKay."

"Only if we keep doing all the stuff the IOA wants, Sheppard." Rodney eyed the remnants of Teyla's pizza and glanced at the taco he had pinched between his thumb and forefinger. "Any idea what's in this today?"

Teyla leaned over and sniffed. "_Skirsk_, I believe. The spices make it difficult to be certain."

"_Skirsk_." Rodney wrinkled his nose. "Do I like _skirsk_?"

"Yes," Teyla replied. "You have it every time you visit New Athos."

Rodney glanced up at the funny hitch in her voice. Sheppard apparently heard it, too, because he narrowed his eyes at Teyla and asked, "What's wrong?"

Her eyes filled with tears, but before she could get her mouth open, the citywide comms blared to life.

"_Colonel Sheppard, Doctor McKay, please report to the control room. Colonel Sheppard and Doctor McKay to the control room._"

"Oh, for God's sake," Sheppard growled. "Teyla…"

Teyla smiled and patted his hand. "Go. We will speak later."

Rodney gazed mournfully at his untouched tray while his stomach rumbled.

"Here." Teyla extended the pizza slice. "This is easier to eat on the run than a taco."

"Thanks." Rodney folded it in half and took a bite as he pushed away from the table and trotted after Sheppard. "What's wrong with her?"

Sheppard heaved a sigh. "No idea. Somebody interrupts every time she starts to tell me."

"She's not pregnant again, is she?"

Sheppard stopped and glanced over his shoulder then shook his head and kept going. "No, she would've told me already. Besides, I don't think she'd be upset about that."

They rounded the corner, stepped in the transporter and stepped out on the command level.

"Oh." Rodney's step quickened as he caught sight of a group huddled around the long range sensors. "Well, maybe after her people get settled on their new world she'll feel better."

"What?" Sheppard screeched to a halt and stared at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Teyla's people are moving. That new girl… Haley, Heather, Hilda…"

"McKay!"

"What's-her-name was trying to update the emergency contact on Teyla's file and couldn't figure out how to change it since it was a gate address. I caught her banging on the keyboard and cursing like a sailor. Seriously, Sheppard, you should hear this girl. She'd make Lorne blush—"

Sheppard closed his eyes and breathed out in that loud counting-to-ten-before-I-kill-you exhale. "Rodney."

"That's all I know. She said Teyla asked her to change the gate address of her homeworld."

"Did you look it up?"

"Yeah." Revulsion rose in Rodney's throat and he swallowed thickly. "Michael had one of his labs there. After we…exterminated what he'd left behind, the stragglers of a few dozen civilizations whose worlds or societies had been destroyed beyond repair set up camp. It's basically Refugee Planet."

"Why are the Athosians moving there?"

Rodney's heart twisted in a way that was still new to him. "I don't know for sure, but I can guess. You know how few of them Michael left. They aren't viable as a people. If they stay on New Athos, they'll die off in a generation or two."

Sheppard's head dropped forward, and he rubbed his eyes. "Damn it."

Anger bubbled up in Rodney's chest. "It's a good thing she already threw him off the top of the tower because…because..."

The corner of Sheppard's mouth quirked up. "Yeah, buddy, it sure is." He sighed and turned his gaze toward Ops. "Let's go see who needs us to save them this time."

Rodney finished off the pizza as he followed Sheppard toward the control room. The buzzing voices quieted when they reached the console everyone was gathered around.

Zelenka looked up with a wide grin. "We have found something."

"I would have never guessed," Rodney replied. "Not with all these people standing around, _not working_."

The techs and scientists scurried back to their stations, leaving room for Rodney and Sheppard to move behind Zelenka.

Rodney studied the display, his mind quickly translating the Ancient. "Are there any ships in the database that match these readings?"

"Ships?" Sheppard squinted at the display. "That's a ship?"

"Not necessarily," Zelenka answered. "Though I am reading a ZPM power signature from it. The…object is in a stationary orbit."

"A space station?" Sheppard asked. "Over what planet?"

Rodney glanced down at the console. "That can't be right."

Zelenka's grin widened. "It is."

"What?" Sheppard demanded.

Rodney grabbed Zelenka's chair and rolled him out of the way. "This says it's in orbit over M3W-712."

Sheppard's brows shot up. "Your evil moon is actually a space station?"

"Yes." Zelenka hovered behind Rodney, peeking over his shoulder. "I was running scans of the sector as you requested. While I was detailing the asteroid field between the second and third planets of the solar system, this moon just came to life."

"Moons do not come to life," Rodney snapped.

"Nor do they cause earthquakes and tornadoes every two hundred years," Zelenka replied. "But this one does, according to you."

"Well, being a space station could explain that." Rodney wheeled the chair into place and sat down, staring at the screen and letting the thoughts in his head roam freely. "If someone is manning that station, they could be causing the weather phenomena."

Sheppard leaned against the console, arms folded. "Really? And what exactly does one use to cause an earthquake?"

"Gee, Sheppard, I don't know. I haven't tried that lately. Though I did manage to use something the Ancients left to destroy _five-sixths of a solar system_ once." Rodney rolled his eyes. "And then there was that time an Ancient device gave me superpowers. And how about—"

"Point taken, McKay." Sheppard rubbed at the furrow between his brows that seemed to grow deeper by the day. "So, I guess we're saying that having a ZPM makes it an Ancient facility."

"Unless you know someone else in this galaxy that uses ZPMs."

"Gee, _McKay_, I seem to remember Todd borrowing a few."

Rodney grimaced. He'd forgotten about that. "Okay, so probably Ancient, but maybe Wraith. Great." He leaned back and looked at Sheppard. "What do you want to do?"

"Check it out." Sheppard's quick grin faded. "Cautiously. We haven't had great success intervening in Ancient experiments and even worse success with Wraith ones. See what else you can find out. We're wheels up at 0900." He patted Zelenka's shoulder. "Good job, Radek."

"Wheels up," Rodney muttered as Sheppard walked away. "Like a jumper has wheels."

Suddenly the gate lit up and spun. Once the event horizon stabilized, the shield coalesced.

"Unscheduled activation," Chuck reported. "No IDC yet."

Zelenka pulled another chair close, his fingers dancing over the console. "Uh oh."

"Uh oh? What the hell does 'uh oh' mean?"

"We are receiving a transmission. The…" Zelenka waved his hand wildly. "The station is communicating directly with Atlantis!"

"What?" Rodney turned to a nearby laptop and scanned the frequencies. "Oh, no no no! Shut down the gate."

Chuck keyed in the command once then a second and a third time. "Gate will not disengage."

"Damn it!" Rodney typed furiously, letting his mind direct his fingers without help from his eyes. "We have to stop it now!"

Sweat dripped off Zelenka's nose. "I am trying!"

"Block, block, block, come on, damn it!" Rodney keyed in every jamming code he knew and invented a couple for good measure. "Well?"

"Still transmitting." Zelenka mumbled something in Czech that had to be particularly vile based on the tone. "Wait… There!" He sagged back in his chair and pulled off his glasses as the gate shut down. "I have turned off the protocol to accept all Ancient transmissions."

"That was in Ancient?" Rodney called up the source code of the transmission, leaning forward and unconsciously drumming his fingers on the console. "Are you sure?"

"Atlantis recognized it as Ancient although it is unlike any code I have seen before."

Rodney twisted to face Chuck. "Figure out why you couldn't shut the gate down. You," he waved at Amelia, "make sure that transmission didn't contain anything that's going to bite us in the ass later, especially some kind of Wraith virus." He turned back and began a diagnostic of the primary and secondary systems then searched the database for a form of code that matched what the facility had sent. "I don't suppose Atlantis provided the translation."

Zelenka snorted. "No. I will start the decryption process, but I believe it will take many hours to complete." He sighed. "If we can decrypt it at all."

"We have to. I have a mission there tomorrow." Rodney snapped his fingers at the comms tech. "Get Chapman and… and… What's-his-name – the new cryptologist Jackson insisted we needed – up here now. We've got work to do."

The tech nodded and began the calls. The rest of the gate techs and scientists were running diagnostics on their equipment or staring at the code. Silence descended in the control room, interrupted only by the hum of laptops and the occasional muttered curse. Rodney ignored his growling stomach as he continued his search of the database. He glanced at his watch and sighed.

The email from Jeannie had waited two days already. It could wait for one more.

xxx

John fought the urge to get up and pace, checking has watch for the sixth time. Teyla sat behind to him, her fingers weaving intricate circles that were either for extreme knitting or a new bantos exercise while Ronon stood by the bulkhead doors and practiced the various cool ways he could draw and spin his blaster.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." McKay stumbled in the back of the jumper, vest and holster in one hand, tablet in the other. "I…I'm sorry."

John narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth for the verbal slap-down he'd been planning for half an hour until he got a good look at McKay – eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed, face drawn and gray. _Gray._ "Damn, Rodney, did you sleep at all?"

"A little." McKay tossed his equipment in the co-pilot chair and strapped on the holster with shaking hands. He tried to pull on his vest and caught his elbow in the arm hole. "Shit!"

Teyla moved to his side. "Here, let me help."

She untangled him from the vest and held it so he could slide his arms in. Then Rodney slumped in his seat and let her zip it up. Every alarm bell in John's head clanged in warning at how still McKay sat.

"What's wrong?" John asked.

"Huh?" McKay looked at him blankly. "Are you talking to me?"

"Yes, Rodney, I'm talking to you. We're not leaving until you tell me the bad news."

McKay paled. "How did you… What bad news?"

If McKay hadn't looked like he'd crumple in a million pieces, John would've smacked the back of his head. "Whatever is making you look like somebody kicked your dog. What the hell did that code say?"

McKay blinked in confusion then his eyes went wide. "Oh. It's a summary of the atmospheric and weather patterns of the planet for the last two hundred years. Once we knew what to look for, we found other reports going back several thousand years. I've got a team of people combing through the data, but I don't anticipate finding anything of concern."

"Then what…" He trailed off as McKay's jaw tightened and his gaze dropped. John winced internally – must be something personal. "You good to go on this mission?"

"Yeah."

No scathing retort. No sarcastic tone. Must be worse than he thought. John's grip tightened on the controls as he lifted off and felt the autopilot kick in to lower them into the gate room. First Ronon then Teyla and now McKay. His team was in pain, and he was powerless to help. He knew how to fight Wraith and Replicators and every nasty thing Pegasus had thrown at them, but damned if he knew how to fight…whatever was hurting them.

How could he not know what was wrong with his team?

Maybe he should take O'Neill up on that offer.

The gate rotated into view, and they shot through the wormhole and out to a cloudy sunset and winds that gusted hard enough to make John's teeth rattle. The Nesac gate was on a cliff that overlooked a deep valley split by a river. The village had been built into the side of the mountain to the right of the water, and the left had been made into a terraced farm. John hugged the cliff as he angled toward the village, searching for a spot to land.

Teyla leaned forward to peer out at the black clouds spilling over the mountains to the left. "The storms are beginning?"

"Looks like it." McKay poked at his tablet and glanced at the HUD. "The barometric pressure is going wild everywhere. It's like a storm is brewing over the whole planet."

"Stay here or head to the space station?" John asked.

McKay grimaced as he switched HUD readouts. "I was hoping to take some readings here first. If that station is responsible for these weather conditions, it has to be communicating with something on the planet. I may not be able to detect it if we take it offline from the station."

Ronon hunched forward. "What difference does it make?"

"While I'm not saying the Ancients couldn't have set up an experiment like this just to get their jollies, I think it's more likely they were testing it as a weapon." McKay turned to face Ronon. "We know the Wraith hibernate for centuries on planets."

"But the Wraith were not hibernating while the Ancestors were here," Teyla said. "They were at war."

"You said this weather pattern didn't start until after they'd left Pegasus." McKay frowned at his tablet and began to type. "It's all conjecture until we figure out what's going on, but I don't want to miss something important because I was in a hurry." His face flushed. "I've done that too many times already."

Veins of lightning exploded across the sky. John circled behind the village and set down between two buildings with inches to spare. "Maybe we should wait here for a little while," he said as he powered down non-essential systems and turned on the shield. "I'm guessing the jumper is a little safer than one of those huts."

"Actually, the Nesacians are known for their superior construction," Teyla offered. "Many worlds seek their knowledge in preparation of rebuilding after a culling or other disaster."

"Guess they'd have to be good at it with storms like this." Ronon leaned forward, the flashes of lightning casting odd shadows on his face. "Must be tough."

Teyla's gaze grew distant. "I spent many days playing here as a child. Athos and Nesac had a strong trading alliance, and my father came often to keep the relationship healthy. These people are kind and fond of laughter." She smiled softly. "If things were tough, as you say, they certainly never let it show."

Lightning split the sky and thunder crashed immediately afterward. Driving rain sluiced down the shield and swirled then turned sideways. Hail bounced. The wind screamed.

John kept his eyes on the sky which had turned a sickly shade of green. "You think a tornado can pick up a shielded jumper?"

McKay gave a tight nod.

"Why?" Ronon asked.

"We have one on each side of the river." McKay held up his tablet with the predicted path which led straight for them. "They'll merge over the water. Let's hope the stargate is anchored to the bedrock of the cliff."

John watched the lightning blanket the sky. "I'm not sure I can fly through that. Do you have any idea what multiple lightning strikes will do to the jumper?"

"Nothing good," McKay replied.

The small ship vibrated slightly then rocked side to side.

John called up the HUD to search for the rotation. A few hundred yards to his left. "Didn't realize tornadoes felt so much like earthquakes."

The nose of the jumper rose and dipped as the ground rolled beneath them.

"They don't." McKay changed the display. "That is an earthquake."

"We should get out of here," Ronon said.

McKay turned to stare at him. "And go where? We've got a tornado almost on top of us."

The home in front of them swayed but didn't collapse. The air was filled with debris – a cart, planks ripped from a building, farming implements, toys, the broken carcass of a goat-like animal. John flinched as a tree tried to spear them, only to deflect off the shield.

"Oh, great. More trouble," McKay muttered. "I knew today was going to be bad."

John held tightly to the chair's arms as the jumper jarred violently. "What now?"

"We're losing the shields."

"You have got to be kidding. Why?"

"Well, it seems to be raining boulders at the moment." McKay swept an arm toward the viewscreen as something large crashed into the home on their right. "That one just bounced off the shield."

"We must do something," Teyla urged.

"Like what?" McKay twisted in his seat to face her. "This is like flying through an asteroid field. The shields can only take so much abuse before they fail, and right now they are holding off the lightning, the hail, and all the trash the tornado is throwing at us. We can't fly in this and we sure as hell can't get out in it."

Teyla stared at the damage the boulder had done to the home. "These people—"

"Have dealt with this for generations." McKay sighed heavily. "I'm not unsympathetic, but we can't help them right now."

"Rodney's right," John interjected. "I've got a city full of new soldiers. We'll bring back a platoon and help these people however we can. But we can't stop this from happening." He glanced at McKay. "How much longer is this storm going to last?"

"I cannot possibly know that."

John gestured toward the viewscreen. "I've been through a few earthquakes in my time. It doesn't matter how structurally sound these buildings are; if a fault opens up beneath them, they'll be destroyed. If this is not natural, we need to find a way to stop it before their entire civilization is flattened."

McKay looked back at Teyla. "How long do the effects of the evil moon typically last?"

"According to legend, a week," she answered.

"You're right. They aren't going to survive if this keeps up." McKay brought up the schematics on his computer. "Okay, I've boosted the shields with everything we've got short of engine power. If we're going to the space station, do it now."

John powered up and lifted off, wincing as the surrounding buildings wobbled. He hadn't realized the shield was holding the structures upright. The home on the right flattened while the wall of the home on the left collapsed inward. He ignored Teyla's gasp and Ronon's muttered curse and pointed the nose of the jumper straight up, climbing toward the heavens and the roiling storm clouds at a ninety degree angle.

"Tornado is shifting," McKay reported. "Heading right for us."

John gritted his teeth and clutched the controls in a death grip, fighting the winds buffeting the small craft.

"Hurry!"

"I am hurrying, Rodney," John growled, sweat dripping in his eyes and down his back. "Engines are sluggish."

"That's because the shield is sucking up all the power."

Lightning slammed into the shield directly on top of the viewscreen. Blinded, John clenched his eyes shut and thought, _Up_! The jumper lurched, stalled then shot upward like a rocket.

"My eyes!" McKay shouted. "I can't see!"

"Nor can I," Teyla replied, a faint tremor belying her calm tone.

"Nobody can, McKay." John called up the HUD in his mind, tracing their path. "Remind me the next time I'm bitching about the Ancients that I need to be grateful some things have a mental component. We should almost be clear of the planet."

"We are," Ronon said. "I, uh, wasn't looking when the lightning hit."

John opened his eyes. Nothing but pure white. No time to panic. "Have we cleared the atmosphere?"

Cloth rustled and an elbow bumped his arm. "Yeah," Ronon said.

"Can you see the space station?"

"Not yet. Can you straighten out some?"

"I'll try." John concentrated on the controls. "How's that?"

Ronon grunted. "Still don't see it."

John thought the HUD on and searched for a ZPM signature. "Do you see it on the HUD?"

"What would it look like?"

"Big blue dot," McKay said. "Probably pulsing."

"Got it." More jostling. "Go, um, left."

John banked left and when the engines hesitated, he shut down the shield. "How's this?"

"Little more left," Ronon said.

"Hey, I think my sight's returning," McKay announced. "I can see some dark around the edges… Unless I'm going completely blind which would really suck because—"

"Rodney," John snapped. "Have your breakdown later. If you can see, help me find the station so we can save those people down there."

"Oh, right." McKay paused for a second. "Sorry. Still only shadows."

"I can recovered somewhat," Teyla said. "Head toward your eleven o'clock."

John made the adjustment and the presence at his side vanished.

"How'd you know that?" Ronon asked.

John could actually hear the arch in Teyla's brow. "I have lived in Atlantis for five years. Many people have clocks with wands."

"Hands." John tried to hide a smile. "Clocks have hands."

"And faces," McKay added.

"Whatever," Ronon mumbled. "You're going the right way now."

John opened his eyes slowly and blinked a few times. McKay had been right – shadows. Spots of black on brilliant white. _Please, God, let it clear up._ "How much farther?"

"Not far," Teyla answered. "Perhaps five minutes."

John blew out a breath and forced his cramping hands to release the controls. Until his or Rodney's sight returned, they couldn't do much. "Don't let me fly into the station."

Teyla squeezed his arm. "Do not worry. We will not let that happen."

"I just hope the Wraith don't show up," McKay mumbled.

"Way to think positive, McKay." John kneaded his palms with his thumbs to get the circulation going, and to keep his hands away from his eyes.

"I can't help it. I always assume the worst so I'm not disappointed later on." Something thumped to the floor. "Aw, damn it. Can someone hand me the laptop?"

"I will get it," Teyla said. "Is that a new picture of Jeannie and Madison?"

"Yeah." Rodney's voice sounded strange, like he was choking.

Teyla must have noticed, too. "Has something happened, Rodney?"

"What? Oh, um, no. I mean…" McKay sighed heavily. "Jeannie's sick."

"What illness does she have?" Teyla asked.

"Cancer," Rodney whispered. He paused, his shaky breaths echoing in the silence. "They caught it early and it's operable. The doctors think she'll be fine."

John twisted toward him. "But…"

"But what the hell do they know!" McKay exploded. "I'm surrounded by the most advanced technology in two galaxies and she has to have some quack cut her open to heal her. My sister is a freaking health nut! How does this happen? What if I…"

"What if you what?" John asked.

"What if I shut down the nanites too soon? They could have—"

"She'd be dead," Ronon said. "You said so."

"But if I had—"

"Ronon's right, Rodney. You know those nanites would have killed her for sure. You saved her life. Besides, lots of people survive cancer, and Jeannie's as tough as they come." John blinked at the smear of color that was McKay. "She'd have to be, growing up with you."

McKay's splutter held equal parts laughter and indignation.

"Did she not say that she had to protect you on your walk home from school?" Teyla teased.

"Lies, all of it. I was in high school when she started Grade One."

Ronon snorted. "So?"

Teyla slapped Ronon's leg then leaned forward to pat Rodney's shoulder. "If her doctors are as gifted as the ones on Atlantis, she will be fine."

McKay nodded. "I emailed Sam before we left. I'm hoping someone at the SGC will take a look at her."

When the HUD beeped a warning, John squinted at the gray blob in front of them. "The death star, I presume."

McKay groaned. "You just couldn't resist, could you?"

"Nope." John blinked rapidly, hoping to bring the controls into focus. "How much can you see?"

"Shapes and colors," McKay said. "I've still got starbursts in my vision."

"Me too. Damn it."

"Perhaps we can assist." Teyla moved behind John. "I can put my hands over yours and guide the ship toward the dock."

"Can you see it?" John asked.

"Call the HUD up," Ronon said. "What am I looking for?"

McKay's hand flopped around on the console. "Okay, that should activate the scans of the facility. Can you read Ancient?"

"A little. Learned most of the danger words after Sheppard got sucked into that time dilation field."

"Huh. Well, usually the docking ports show up as small flashing orange dots but so do exhaust ports. If we get too close to one, you'll see a warning appear on the HUD."

"Think there's a dock over there. See it?"

"Yes," Teyla replied as she placed her hands on John's. "We need to go up and to the right."

John looked that way but saw only shades of gray. "Here goes nothing." He kept his hands on the controls but allowed Teyla to guide them. The jumper lurched slightly. "Sorry." He exhaled slowly and let his mind go blank, trusting Teyla.

After a minute, her grip tightened. "We are close."

"No warnings on the HUD," Ronon reported.

"The docking port is on the ceiling," John reminded Teyla. "You need to maneuver under the docking clamp and ease upward."

Her hair brushed his neck as she nodded.

"When she gets into place, you need to make sure the docking clamp is sealed or we'll die when we open the hatch," McKay said. "There's a lever on the other side of the bulkhead doors that lowers the exit ladder. The controls for the hatch are under a panel next to it."

"Got it."

Metal scraped metal.

"I am sorry." Teyla's palms were clammy. "I am not sure what to do now."

"Watch the HUD," John said, mentally calling up the alignment display. "The two lines with a circle on top is us. Get the circle inside the orange dot."

A few seconds later, the jumper bumped into something solid and stopped moving.

"What now?" Teyla asked.

"The HUD will tell you when the docking clamps have engaged." McKay turned toward the rear. "When the lights turn purple, the seal is good. If the green button is lit, that means there is an unpressurized access tube."

The jumper vibrated when something clanged against the roof.

"Got all purple," Ronon reported. "The green button is dark."

"Let's go." John ran his hands over his vest, checking the contents, while Teyla closed McKay's laptop and set it aside then moved toward the back.

"I hope that seal is solid," McKay muttered.

John looked to where he assumed Ronon and Teyla were then glanced over his shoulder at McKay's blurry form. "It's solid." He clipped the P-90 Teyla handed him to his vest. "How's your eyesight?"

"Getting better, I think, though I don't remember your hair being flat like that."

"What?" John brushed his hands over his hair.

McKay grinned. "You are so gullible sometimes."

"You'll pay for that later."

"Oh, I'm so scared."

"You done yet?" Ronon called from above them.

John moved to let McKay start climbing. "Coming, Mother."

"Don't make me kill you, Sheppard."

"If you are done, there are people who need our help." Teyla sounded disgusted. "Today."

John fumbled around until he found the ladder. "On my way."

When he reached the top, Ronon pulled him through and led him through a dimly lit room of smooth gray metal with familiar crystal sensors.

"Only exit," Ronon said.

"Life signs?"

"Um…" McKay pulled the life signs detector from his vest and squinted at it, pulling it close then holding it at arm's length. "Well, shit. I don't know."

Teyla peered over his shoulder. "There are none in the vicinity."

"Well, come on, then," John said. "Teyla, take point. Ronon, you cover our six."

Teyla nodded and moved in front of him. She swiped at the sensors then pulled her P-90 to ready when the doors opened. She stepped through with McKay on her heels. John followed closely behind. A blinding light flashed.

Then nothing.

xxx

Ronon staggered backward, hands pressed to his eyes. Something was wrong, wrong, WRONG! His every instinct screamed it. He drew his blaster and stumbled forward, blinking rapidly at the halos in his vision.

"Sheppard! McKay! Teyla!"

No answer. No groans, no whining, no bullets being chambered. Hand pressed to the wall for guidance, Ronon swept his weapon in an arc, searching for a whisper of cloth, a gasp, anything to show him where his team was.

He reached for his radio. "This is Ronon. Can anyone hear me?" _Please!_

Not even static.

_Think!_

Rushing wouldn't help anything. Ronon took a deep breath and closed his eyes, mentally reciting the Satedan warrior oath. The familiar words of a now-dead language wrapped around his racing heart and soothed his flustered mind. When he finally opened his eyes, he was standing in the corridor he'd followed his team into. The walls shimmered, and on closer inspection he spotted the tiny crystals that covered every surface. Sensors.

Ronon knelt where he knew Sheppard had been and trailed his fingers over the floor. No blood or flecks of flesh. Not even lint. They had vanished completely.

Unless he was the one who had vanished.

Ronon stood and hurried back to the docking port. He lay on his stomach and stuck his head through the hatch. Jumper was still there and still empty. So, his team had been taken and he had been left behind. How and why?

He got to his feet and returned to the doorway which was still open. He stepped through and paused. Nothing. He took another step and then another. No flash of light and no team. When he reached the far end of the hallway, a door slid open. Blaster drawn, Ronon eased in, looking left then whirling to his right. Another big, empty room with corridors branching in every direction. Each had Ancestor writing above it. He moved slowly around the room, studying the signs. He chose the hallway with the only word he recognized.

Wraith.

Ronon moved silently, every sense outstretched. The stale air was expected, but he couldn't smell anything else with it – nothing that indicated something living was aboard. The walls vibrated so slightly it was almost imperceptible, and reminded him of Atlantis. He attributed the faint hum around him to the power source for the lights and life support.

Life support. When had he started thinking in terms like that? While Sateda had been fairly advanced by Pegasus standards, they hadn't had anything that resembled life support, not even in their medical areas. Had he changed so much in four years that he took such things for granted? He had been surprised at McKay's obvious devastation over his sister's illness. He knew their doctors couldn't heal everything because he'd watched his teammates approach death on more than one occasion, only to be snatched back at the last minute by Ancestor technology. And yet, he had still assumed that the Earth doctors could easily cure something that had been a death sentence on Sateda.

Ronon passed a series of small rooms with beds and cabinets. Sleeping quarters for the station's crew? He slipped into one to do a quick search. The tattered remains of a ten-thousand year old uniform in a drawer was all he found. Definitely not Wraith.

He continued down the corridor, radioing for his team every few steps, peering in rooms as he passed – what looked like a kitchen, a room with chairs in conversation groupings, another couple of big gathering rooms, more sleeping areas. A flashing light at the end of the hall caught his attention. He hurried toward it, sweeping his gaze over the rest of the open doors as he passed.

The flashing light was next to more Ancestor writing. Ronon frowned as he studied it. He recognized "Wraith" again along with "danger" and "precaution" but none of the other words were familiar. When he found his teammates and got them home, he was going to dig out that translator thing Weir had given him so he could preserve Satedan, and he'd make McKay or Zelenka program it with the basic Ancestor words.

Ronon got in a ready stance and swiped his hand over the door controls. When the door opened, he leaped inside, twisting left then right. The room was as big as the Atlantis gate room and filled with machines that beeped and flashed. Keeping his blaster in hand, he moved through the equipment toward the far wall, passing row after row of empty stasis chambers.

Several smooth metal tables stood in the middle, and the floor dipped slightly toward the drain under each one's center, streaks of black staining the edges. While a part of him was repulsed at the idea of experiments, most of him hoped that they could find something in the records that would help them destroy the Wraith once and for all.

He rounded the corner, and his jaw dropped.

Teyla was in one of the chambers, eyes closed, still wearing her uniform including her P-90.

Ronon raced forward, trying to take in everything. The chamber seemed to be functioning. The interior was slightly illumined, and the panel on the right was lit with text scrolling across the display. Text he couldn't read. What was it doing to Teyla?

He blew out an agitated breath and forced himself to holster his weapon before he shot up the room. Unwilling to risk hurting her, Ronon moved to the next chamber and poked at the controls. The buttons looked similar to the ones for the Atlantis chambers. He entered the sequence he'd seen McKay input when Beckett went in stasis. The read-out flashed, but the chamber stayed dark. Growling, he tried again without success.

Ronon slammed a fist against the case and stomped back to Teyla. "I don't know what to do," he whispered. "Can't leave you here like this, but if I try getting you out, I could kill you." He sighed and pressed his forehead against the clear barrier that separated them. "I don't know where Sheppard and McKay are. They aren't answering their radios, and they haven't found us yet even though they have life sign detectors so I'm guessing they're locked up like you."

He stepped back and studied the smooth planes of Teyla's face. She bore little resemblance to his sister, but at times he had to bite his tongue to keep from calling her Jora, especially when she played a prank on Sheppard then cut her eyes to McKay to pass the blame. Sheppard fell for it every time, just like his parents had.

He couldn't lose another family.

"Hang on, Teyla. I'm gonna get you out of there."

Ronon whispered a prayer he thought he'd forgotten then slowly keyed in the sequence Keller had used to release Beckett from stasis. The chamber hummed, and more text scrolled across the display while a single button flashed. After a few moments of nothing, Ronon held his breath and pushed the button. The chamber's interior brightened and several of the control lights changed to purple. The beeping steadily increased. Teyla's lids fluttered and the barrier melted away.

"Teyla?"

She inhaled deeply then exhaled.

Ronon reached in and grabbed her hand. "You need to wake up now."

She took another breath and blinked languidly at him. Then her eyes flew open and she gasped. "What has happened? Where are we?"

"Some kind of lab." Ronon decided to leave out the Wraith part. No reason to remind her again of the tiny bit of DNA she carried. "You okay?"

Teyla looked around in confusion. "I feel fine. Where are John and Rodney?"

"Don't know." Ronon helped her out of the chamber. "When that light flashed, all of you disappeared. I found you first."

"Then we must look for them. Which way?"

Ronon led her out of the lab and down the hallway to the hub of corridors. "I can't read the writing over the entrances."

Teyla glanced up at the words over his head. Her eyes darkened, but she didn't say anything as she made her way around the room, stopping in front of one on his left. "This one indicates operations."

"Worth a try," Ronon said as he followed her into the hall.

The rooms they passed contained tables, chairs, and equipment. Not living quarters. Teyla stopped in one and bent to scrutinize a pile of crystals.

"What is it?" Ronon asked.

Teyla picked one up and walked back to him. "These appear to be similar to the crystals used in the control room. Rodney calls them data chips. I believe this to be an analysis area or a meeting room."

Ronon grunted in reply and continued down the hall. They took a couple of turns that led nowhere and had to retrace their steps, but eventually found themselves in front of a large doorway with more writing.

"What does it say?" Ronon asked.

Teyla traced her fingertips over the text. "I am uncertain of this word, but this one says 'Operations.'" She palmed the door controls then whipped her P-90 to ready and stepped inside.

Ronon mirrored her moves, covering the right side of the room. Consoles radiated outward from the center of the room in concentric circles. All were active.

"They are not here." Teyla sighed as she turned around. "We should continue looking."

Ronon stared down at a console. "Can one of these tell us where they are?"

"Perhaps." Teyla moved to his side, frowning as she glanced over the console then walked to the next one. "Core temperature. Wind speed. Atmospheric analysis." She met his eyes. "These seem to be measuring what is happening on the planet."

Ronon weaved his way to the central bank of consoles. "And these?"

"I…" Her mouth formed the words she attempted to read. "I cannot be certain, but I believe this one is for storm generation and that one for ground quakes."

Ronon stared at the pieces of metal and glass that seemed intent on destroying a planet. "How?"

"I have no idea. I do not think even Rodney would be able to explain it, but you have seen the power of the Ancestors. Do you doubt their ability to create a storm if they can create a human body using nanites?"

"No." He drew his blaster and dialed it to kill.

Teyla clamped an iron hand around his wrist. "What are you doing?"

"Not gonna let that world die."

xxx

Teyla felt the tremors running through the corded muscles in Ronon's arm. She pulled until he lowered his weapon and turned to face her. "I understand how you feel, but you do not know the effect that firing at this console will have. There is no guarantee the storms would stop, and we would have lost the only way to shut them down."

Ronon jammed his weapon in his holster. "Then what do we do?"

"We—" She stopped to study his expression – jaw clenched tight, fine lines around his eyes growing deeper, pulse hammering in his throat. "What do you think we should do?"

"Can you shut it off?"

Teyla wandered around the center panels. "Maybe. But I might make it worse."

"Try one," Ronon urged. "See what happens."

Teyla chose the storm generation console then hesitated as Garjon's face rose in her mind's eye. Friends since childhood, she had sought him out to negotiate construction assistance for the new Athosian village on Tipul. "I learned of the coming disaster when I was here three days ago. A group was set to come next week to help us build our new homes on Tipul."

Ronon's head snapped up. "Tipul? The refugee colony?"

"Yes." She met his gaze. "Michael's vengeance continues."

"Sorry. Losing a world is hard."

"It is not the first world we have lost," Teyla said, "and it is not the first time we have lost our independence. However, it is the first time we will merge our way of life with others. I fear losing who we are."

Ronon flinched and turned away from her. She reached for him then stayed her hand and faced the console. To make a mistake would be to condemn Garjon and his people to death. To do nothing would have the same effect. She studied the readings, relying on the many hours she had spent assisting Elizabeth with translations and the multiple missions at Rodney's side as he worked to save them. She had learned from the best.

"I believe the storm generation is at maximum. I will attempt to lower it."

Teyla slowly twisted the dial. The display showed generation power dropping to mid-level. When she tried to lower it more, the console beeped and text began to scroll.

"It requires some kind of override to reduce it further."

Ronon walked to her side. "Can you change any of the others?"

Teyla moved to the ground quake console. "I do not believe so. This one is much more complicated."

"What about this one?"

She cast a glance over the read-outs. "It has to do with atmospheric composition. I do not know what the proper settings should be."

Ronon didn't look happy, but he stepped back to the next circle of consoles. "Any of these monitor what's going on inside this place?"

Teyla surveyed the room again. A set of controls stood separate from the others in a corner. Hope flickered when she glanced over them. "This one is for life signs."

Ronon hurried over. "Can you operate it?"

"We shall see." Teyla typed in the commands as she had seen Radek do so many times. A map appeared on the screen in front of them. Two dots were in the center, and two more on the far side of the station. "Walk to the other side of the room."

"Why?"

"I wish to determine which set of dots we are."

"Oh." Ronon jogged across the room. "How's that?"

One of the center dots shifted in minutely. She zoomed in until pathways appeared.

"I am attempting to plot a path to them. Step outside and turn right."

Ronon did as she asked, and she smiled as she followed his dot's progress on the map. She traced the corridors from the operations room to where John and Rodney were then scrolled back to do it again until she had it memorized.

"One more time," Ronon said. "I missed the beginning."

She reran it again until he nodded. They hurried to the door and went right, moving quickly through the abandoned hallways and passing room after empty room.

"I wonder where they went," Teyla mused.

"Who?"

"Whoever was living here. If the legend of the evil moon did not begin until after the Ancestors left, someone else must have been operating this station. Who would have such knowledge and where did they go?"

Ronon shrugged. "This is Ancestor technology. Maybe some of them stayed behind."

"Perhaps." Teyla nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps they were close to finishing this station and stayed behind in hopes of creating a weapon to defeat the Wraith so that the rest could return." A thought struck her. "Leaving their home must have been hard."

"Don't care." Anger twisted Ronon's face. "They left us to the Wraith."

"I know." Learning that the Ancestors had been responsible for the emergence of the Wraith had been one of the hardest things Teyla had faced. "Their... retreat—"

"Retreat!" Ronon spat, long strides carrying him past their turn. "They ran away like cowards."

Teyla grabbed his arm and pulled him backward. "This way," she said, tugging him down the correct corridor. "I, too, wish they had chosen a different course, but they must have had their reasons."

Ronon wheeled, leaning into her face. "Don't defend them! How many of your people have died because they made a mess then left? Your culture is dying; mine has been dead for years. My family, everything I knew is gone. Forever." His voice cracked on the last word. He spun and stalked away from her.

Teyla closed her eyes as sorrow gripped her. She should have realized. Ronon had started to withdraw while they were on Earth but had returned to his normal exuberance when they reached Pegasus. Everyone had been busy re-establishing ties and making sure Atlantis was properly functioning after their battles and spaceflight but once that was done they had settled into their routines. She had welcomed the respite from the constant dangers without once considering the effect it would have on her team.

She jogged to catch up to him. "Is that the burden you have been carrying?"

Ronon's gaze was locked on the far end of the corridor. "Don't know what you mean."

"I see." Teyla matched him step for step. "Halling and I fought for hours over moving to Tipul. I know what it is to live in the midst of a different culture. I find myself adapting to their ways, thinking like them, dressing like them, speaking like them. When I first arrive on New Athos, sometimes I feel as if I must relearn what it is to be Athosian. I grieve for what I know Torren will never know. Not that learning the ways of Earth or Sateda or any other place is bad, but he will never be wholly Athosian. None of our children will be."

Ronon stopped, staring down at his boots. "I can't remember the last verse of the Warrior Anthem. We sang it on the fourth day of the Liort Festival every year as a remembrance of the Fallen." His shoulders slumped. "Can't find it in any books. It's just gone."

Teyla slipped her hand in his as they began to walk. "There is no shame in grieving for what is lost."

Emotion rippled over his face. "Don't know how."

"To grieve?"

"To let go."

Teyla palmed the door controls and stepped through to the next section. "To let go is not to forget. It is to accept. Allow yourself to feel the pain. One day you will be able to remember without hurting."

"Pain keeps me sharp."

"Pain dulls the senses," Teyla corrected. "It is life without color. Permit yourself to experience the fullness of life instead of merely existing. There is more out there than fighting Wraith."

Ronon's pace quickened. "Maybe for you."

Teyla hurried forward and blocked his path. "For you as well. You are a fine warrior, but you are so much more. Do you not see that?"

Ronon took a deep breath. "We need to find Sheppard and McKay." He stepped around her and strode toward the next junction.

Teyla sighed and followed, allowing the matter to rest for now. After a half hour of walking in silence, they reached the section the map had indicated held two life signs. She and Ronon took positions on opposite sides of the door. At his nod, she swiped the door controls and they slipped inside as one.

The room was much smaller than the one she had been in, and she recognized some of the equipment as infirmary scanners. Empty beds lined the room on one side and stasis chambers another. Teyla checked each one, pleased to see they were unoccupied.

"Found them," Ronon called, sounding strained.

Teyla hurried past a row of storage cabinets and gasped. John and Rodney were on tables in the center of a sea of equipment, chests rising and falling in unison, their faces slack in unconsciousness. Each had a machine behind him that was projecting beams of light onto his head.

"What's it doing to them?" Ronon asked.

"I do not know." Teyla scanned the equipment, noting a monitor that displayed their vitals. She had spent enough time around such readings to know what was normal and what was not. "Their brain activity is extremely high."

"That's good, right?"

"While it is certainly a better sign that being too low, this is much higher than it should be, even if they were awake."

Ronon moved to stand behind the device at Rodney's head. "Is it hurting them?"

She stared at the morass of colors on the display. "I cannot tell."

John jerked and moaned softly, but didn't awaken.

Ronon reached for the device.

"Stop!" Teyla exclaimed. "What are you doing?"

"Was gonna turn it off."

"That could kill them."

"It might be killing them now." Ronon glanced at John then back at Rodney. "We don't know how long it will take Atlantis to get here, if they can get here at all." He met her gaze. "We don't have any water. If it takes longer than a few days, we'll all be dead."

John shivered, and his heartbeat sped up.

"You are correct." Teyla shook off her fear and moved to Ronon's side. "I have never seen a device such as this. Do you know how to turn it off?"

"I was just gonna move it."

Teyla studied it from every side, searching for a button, a display, a control mechanism of any kind on the sculpted brown device. She placed a hesitant hand on it and a prickly sensation shot through her fingers to her elbow.

"Did it shock you?"

"Not exactly," she replied, shaking her arm and wriggling her fingers.

Ronon reached out and touched it. "Huh."

"Did it hurt you?"

"Nope. Didn't feel a thing."

She had made the decision years earlier to accept the Wraith DNA she had as a gift to help her people, but at rare times it was the curse her subconscious consider it to be.

Ronon ran his hands over and around the oval machine then down the cylinder that attached it to the table. "Got something." He crouched to peer underneath the oval where it met the cylinder. "Small indentation where they connect."

Teyla reached under the device behind Rodney and traced her fingers over the seam, gritting her teeth as the needles stretched from her fingertips to her spine. "I cannot find it."

"You're touching it."

"I feel nothing." Except the stabbing pain that had reached the base of her skull.

"Let go. I'll do it."

Ronon pulled her hand away, and she staggered back as the pain vanished. Teyla breathed deeply, searching for the center of her calm, then moved to stand at Rodney's side. She took his hand in both of hers and let her gaze linger on his face, praying this wouldn't be her last memory of him.

Teyla tightened her grip and met Ronon's eyes. "Turn it off."

xxx

Rodney hated dancing. He wanted to be left alone and had told the woman so vociferously and repeatedly. Yet she kept cornering him, forcing him to dance away from her. His head hurt when she got close. But he couldn't keep dancing forever. His entire body ached from the exertion up to this point, and she wasn't showing any indication of giving up.

She approached again, and the room grew dark. Rodney tried to pull away, but she had him this time. She ran her fingers through his hair, murmuring something in a language he didn't understand. Her nails dug into his scalp, and he stiffened as the pain in his head spiked. Where was his team when he needed them?

Then suddenly the pain was gone and he was alone. No, that wasn't right. Someone was holding his hand. Was he in the infirmary?

"Jennifer?"

"No, Rodney, it is Teyla. You must wake up."

He took a deep breath, frowning when he smelled stale air instead of antiseptic. Definitely not the infirmary. He remembered a mission, a storm, a space station…

Rodney bolted upright and yelped when he smacked his head on something rock hard. "What the hell was that?" He clutched what was going to be a knot of massive proportions on the top of his skull and twisted around to stare in horror at the device behind him. "Oh, that is not good. Was it fully active when you shut it down?"

"We had no way to tell," Teyla answered. "How do you feel?"

"Like somebody was trying to rip my brain out. Where's…" Rodney trailed off as he turned to his right and spotted Sheppard trapped under a similar device. He scrambled to his feet and pushed in front of Ronon. "How long has he been like this?"

Ronon shook his head. "Don't know. Probably since we got here about two hours ago."

"Why haven't you shut it down?"

"Was about to." Ronon reached under the unit.

"What are you doing?" Rodney demanded.

"Turning it off."

Rodney pointed at a flashing purple button. "This says off."

Ronon blinked at him. "What does?"

Rodney heaved a sigh. "This button right here."

Ronon glanced at Teyla then back to Rodney. "Don't see a button."

"How can you not…" Rodney turned to Teyla. "Can you see it?"

"No," she said, "and I could not feel whatever Ronon found that turned yours off."

Rodney looked over the displays and brightly lit indicator buttons on the device. "Seriously? You can't see any of this?"

"Looks like a big brown rock to me," Ronon replied.

"To me as well," Teyla added. "Can you tell what it does?"

"I'm working on it." A thought struck Rodney. "You pushed the only button you could find without knowing what the thing did? It could have fried my brain."

Teyla's lips pressed into a thin line. "Time was of the essence."

"Still is," Ronon said. "It's hurting Sheppard."

"What?" Rodney scanned the displays again. "'Download in progress,'" he read. "Oh, God."

"What's that mean?" Ronon asked.

"That Sheppard is royally screwed." Rodney traced a finger along each row of indicators. "I'm not sure if it's downloading something into his mind or out of it."

"We must free him now." Teyla reached for Sheppard's hand as he suddenly gasped, fingers twitching and eyes rolling beneath his lids. "He is in pain."

_Nails digging into his scalp._

Rodney shook the sensation away and concentrated on the device. No obvious way to reverse or slow the download. He peeked under the unit. Reset. If the woman had cornered him a few seconds earlier… No, he wasn't going to dwell on that while Sheppard needed him. Later, though, he would explain in infinite detail to his teammates what the consequences could have been.

"McKay."

Rodney glanced to Ronon then down at Sheppard. His face was stretched in a grimace as he arched off the table and began to convulse. "Oh, no you don't." He straightened and reached for the off button. "Please don't die."

He pressed the button and the device powered down. Sheppard slumped bonelessly on the table, chest heaving. Then his eyes flew open.

"Sheppard?" Ronon shook Sheppard's shoulder. "Can you hear me?"

Teyla bent, cupping Sheppard's face in her hands. "John, look at me." She looked up at Rodney. "He is not responding.'

"We need to get him back to Atlantis now," Rodney said.

Ronon scooped Sheppard in his arms like a child. "Let's go," he said, striding toward the door.

Rodney scurried after him. "Wait. I can't fly in that storm. I'll kill us all."

Ronon stopped, the muscle in his jaw jumping. "I'll get Sheppard to the jumper. Teyla, get McKay to the control room so he can shut everything down."

"Control room?" Rodney turned to Teyla. "What control room?"

"I will show you."

She took off at a dead run.

Rodney stared after her then looked to Ronon. "What?"

"Go!" Ronon barked.

Rodney dashed after Teyla, glancing back once to see Ronon moving quickly but carefully after them. After a few twists and turns, he disappeared from sight. Rodney ran until he thought his lungs were going to burst. His legs were cramping and the sweat dripping in his eyes felt like hot pokers. His back was definitely never going to be the same.

"Teyla!" Rodney panted. "Slow down."

"We are almost there." Teyla peeked back at him from around the corner she'd just turned. "You can do this."

Rodney let his head droop but kept running. When he was certain he couldn't take another step, Teyla grabbed him by the arm and dragged him inside a large door. He stumbled to a stop, sucking in huge gulps of air until his brain caught up with his eyes. Bank after bank of consoles. He moved to the nearest one and felt his heart race harder. Tectonic plate movement analysis and projection. Rodney spun to check the one behind him – glacial temperature manipulation.

"I've found the mother lode," Rodney whispered, bracing his hands on the console. "Systems for—"

"Rodney!"

He glanced up to find Teyla standing in the center of the room, her face pinched tight with worry. "Wha—" Oh, Sheppard. Right. "Coming." He hustled down to where she was waiting.

"This console controls storm generation. I lowered it as far as it would let me, but I do not know the override to shut it off."

Rodney studied the display. "Yes, well…" He glanced at her, wondering when she had learned so much about Ancient technology. "Um, good job."

A flick of her eyes was her only reaction. "Can you shut it off?"

"Yeah." When Rodney touched the dial, the panel lit purple and switched off. "Huh."

Teyla stood at his elbow, her face pulling into a frown. "It would not shut down because I lack the Ancestor gene."

"Guess some settings require it while others don't." Rodney moved to the next console and turned it off. "Do you know which station operates this facility?"

"Yes." Teyla pointed to a grouping in the corner.

Rodney handed her his tablet. "Can you hook this to it and download as much data as possible? I need to know what happened when we arrived so that we can prevent it from happening again."

She nodded and headed to the controls. Rodney made quick work of the rest of the consoles then walked around them again to confirm each one was off. He wandered past several others on his way to where Teyla was working, checking to see if any of them controlled a portion of the storms that he hadn't considered because he was seriously opposed to dying in a jumper crash. Satisfied that everything else was data collection and analysis, Rodney joined Teyla at facility operations.

"I have downloaded the past twelve hours of data logs," Teyla said.

Rodney glanced at his watch. "Good. We've only been here about four hours." He knelt to unclip the connectors. "Any idea where Ronon and Sheppard are?"

Teyla turned to a panel and typed a command. A map appeared. "They are almost to the jumper. We must go."

Rodney followed her down a long hallway that led to a hub of corridors. Teyla paused and turned slowly, her eyes focused on symbols over each entry. Rodney squinted, sounding out the words. Engineering. Officers' quarters. Research and development. His mouth went dry. The possibilities…

"This way." Teyla stood in front of the hub's one door which opened when they approached.

Ronon was waiting for them at the end of a glimmering hall, still holding Sheppard. "I need help getting him in the jumper."

"Rodney, prepare to fly us out of here," Teyla said. "I will help Ronon with John."

"Okay." Rodney couldn't help glancing at Sheppard as he moved to the hatch. "How is he?"

"Still won't respond," Ronon answered.

Rodney bobbed his head and climbed into the jumper. He hurried to the pilot's chair and powered up, blocking out the sounds of Ronon and Teyla maneuvering Sheppard down the ladder and onto a bench in the back. Catatonic didn't mean brain damage, couldn't mean brain damage. Sheppard was too strong, too stubborn, too everything for that.

"We are ready, Rodney," Teyla called from the back.

It wasn't until he glanced back to make sure the hatch was secured that he realized his eyesight had returned to normal. He breathed a sigh of relief as he detached from the station and dove toward the planet. Storm clouds still covered most of the surface but when they broke through, they found a steady downpour instead of tornadoes and hail.

Rodney headed the gate, dialing as they approached. "Atlantis, this is McKay. Medical emergency. Have a med team meet us in the jumper bay."

"_This is Atlantis. Med team has been notified. You are clear to come through_."

They shot through the wormhole then rotated into the bay where Keller and her team were waiting. After that, everything became a blur of medical personnel and soldiers and needle pricks and questions. Rodney wanted to be pampered and coddled, but each time he opened his mouth to complain about his head, his back, his legs, and the tingling sensation on the right side of his tongue, he caught sight of Sheppard's unblinking eyes staring at the ceiling. Eventually, Rodney bowed his head and let the sea of people flow around him.

"You okay?"

Rodney flinched hard and looked up to find the triage area empty except for Ronon who was hovering. "Where'd everybody go?"

"Teyla'll be right back. Said she had something she needed to do." Ronon strolled to the sofa near the door and plopped down. "Keller took Sheppard that way." He waved to his left. "Some kind of special scanner."

Rodney hopped off the gurney and settled on the sofa. "Did she say if she thought he was going to be okay?"

"Nope."

"No she didn't say, or no he isn't going to be fine?"

"She didn't say.

"Oh."

Rodney propped his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands. Patience was not his strong suit, never had been. He needed to be doing something. Over the years, he'd heard a thousand different opinions on what was the hardest part of being on a team. Without a doubt, for him it was not being in control. He was fine with Sheppard being in charge of the team, knew that he didn't possess the strategy background or big picture thinking that came naturally to John. But in life and death circumstances, Rodney was the go-to guy. Except in situations like this where all he could do was sit while someone else worked to save the day.

"I think your sister should come visit," Ronon said.

Rodney blinked, trying to connect the dots. "What?"

"Your sister. I think she should come."

Rodney's brain had apparently been damaged by the device because no matter how he tried, he couldn't make sense of what Ronon was saying. "Why?"

"So Keller can fix her."

Rodney felt like he'd been hit in the chest with a sledgehammer. With everything that had happened, he'd forgotten about Jeannie's diagnosis. He opened his mouth to explain, but his ability to speak vanished as every horrible thing that could possibly happen raced through his mind.

"I had a sister."

Rodney sat in stunned silence. In all their years as teammates, Ronon had never mentioned a word to him about his life on Sateda or his family. Rodney glanced out of the corner of his eye at Ronon who was sprawled on the sofa, legs stretched out and head tilted back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. The only person Rodney had ever met that came close to being as opposite of him as Ronon was Teal'c. They simply had nothing in common.

Except this.

Rodney cleared his throat. "Older or younger?"

"Older. Teyla reminds me of her."

"Bossed you around, huh."

Ronon's mouth curled upward. "All the time."

"Must be a sister thing. Jeannie is several years younger and she still does it."

"Who does what?" Teyla asked as she came through the door.

Rodney glanced at Ronon who flashed a grin then went back to staring at the ceiling. "Nothing," Rodney answered.

"Has Jennifer returned?"

"Not yet." Rodney pushed to his feet and began to pace. "I should be doing some…" Horror filled him and he spun around, searching the area. "Oh, my God. My computer! Where's my computer?" He hurried to the gurney he'd been on. "All the data about the facility, what it did to Sheppard was on it." He dropped to his knees to look under the bed.

"Rodney." Teyla pulled on his arm. "Calm down."

He jerked away from her. "I need that computer! Don't you understand how bad this is?"

"I gave your computer to Doctor Zelenka."

"I mean, Sheppard could be dying and I've lost…" Rodney turned to stare at her. "You did what?"

"Doctor Zelenka is going through the files we downloaded." Teyla took his hand and pulled him to his feet. "I did not think you would wish for any time to be wasted."

"But Zelenka?"

Teyla arched a brow at him. "Do not be rude."

Rodney heard Ronon snort behind him and couldn't hold back a grin. For once, he actually knew what the man was thinking. "Zelenka is… adequate." He looked toward the doors that separated them from Sheppard. "But he's not me. I'll be right back."

He strode to the transporter and headed for his lab, surprised at the cacophony of sound echoing down the hall. He stopped short when he stepped inside. Every scientist under his authority was at a workstation or a table or an unoccupied piece of the floor. Ideas were being bandied about, discoveries were being shouted, and problems were being discussed.

"Ah, Rodney, there you are." Zelenka pushed through a small group huddled around a monitor. "The data is incredible. We will be analyzing it for months." He held out a tablet. "This is yours. We have copied all the data to a secure server and to everyone's laptop. Doctor Kusinagi and her team are going through the information from the medical area where you and Colonel Sheppard were. As soon as we have something, we will notify you and Doctor Keller."

"Yes, well…" Rodney tried to think of a clever quip or a sarcastic retort, but all that came out was, "Thanks, Radek."

Zelenka blinked at him in surprise. "You are welcome. Please give Colonel Sheppard our best wishes."

Rodney nodded and left. By the time he reached the infirmary, Sheppard had been wheeled to a medical bay where Teyla and Ronon had drawn up chairs. Rodney sat down between them, called up the data, and began to read.

xxx

The world was out of focus. Sound was distorted. Everything was twisted, unrecognizable. Time had lost meaning. John had a vague memory of walking onto a space station at some point in the haze of the past, but then a thousand knives had skewered his mind and he'd retreated to a dark corner, waiting for his team to save him. The waiting had stretched to some point past eternity, the knives burrowing so deep that he'd had to sever the connection to his body to keep his essence from being ripped to shreds, but even then the pain hovered close enough to steal his breath at times.

Then the pain stopped.

John had remained hidden, certain that it was a trick. But the pain hadn't returned yet, and he sensed a change around him. So, he uncurled from that place in his mind that held his most precious secrets and took a tentative step. But he couldn't find his way back. The eyes that had guided him to safety countless times refused to focus, to blink, to move. The ears that had alerted him of danger in two galaxies couldn't translate the noise that washed over him. Fingers wouldn't bend. Legs wouldn't obey.

For one horror-filled moment, John thought Thalen had returned, but he'd been able to see and hear back then even if he couldn't control it. He hadn't thought anything could be worse than having someone else controlling his body.

He had been wrong. Having no one control it was worse. Much worse.

In his mind, he screamed for help as he searched relentlessly for the magical connection with his body, begging for release from his prison. Exhausted, he let himself drift in the nothingness. Only then did he notice the images around him – racing Dave to the stables to see who would get to ride Maddox, flying lessons with Granddad, the sizzle of kissing Nancy for the first time, being promoted to captain and squad leader. Stepping through the stargate. Flying a city in space.

Introducing Teyla to popcorn and Ferris wheels. Teaching Ronon how to surf. Plotting practical jokes with Rodney. Laughing at Carson's McKay impersonation until tears streaked his face. Teaching Elizabeth the intricate dance steps of the Bucres harvest ceremony and screwing it up so Ronon would have to take his place. Asking Lorne to draw caricatures of the senior staff at the annual Atlantis PlayDay then spending a week's wage to buy the ones of his team.

Watching Teyla watch Torren. Flying Ronon to Sateda to search through the rubble and pretending to not see the tears. Tweaking the jumpers' controls until they responded more quickly to Rodney. Finally removing his team from the team Olympics so someone else could win. Late night star-gazing. Movie nights. Satedan death rituals. Athosian blanket weaving. Holidays. Birthdays.

The god-awful shirt Teyla had given him. Putting the entire contents of Rodney's room on his balcony. Convincing Ronon to try on Carson's kilt then plastering the pictures all over the Mess.

"Sh-p-d?"

The blur around him sharpened then faded. John heard a distinct beep in the roar of sound.

"Ca… me, She…"

Antiseptic, bitter and stinging, filled his nostrils. His fingers tingled. Something cold brushed against the inside of his arm.

"Wake…"

John blinked and the brown blur hovering over him turned into Ronon. When he realized his eyelids had actually moved, the beeping sped up. Ronon leaned closer, and John thought his heart would burst when he felt the pressure of two hands on the sides of his face.

"Can you hear me, Sheppard?"

John slowly and deliberately closed his eyes and opened them again.

Ronon's grin threatened to split his face in two. "Knew I wasn't hearing things. You _were_ laughing."

The image of Ronon in that kilt flashed in John's mind, and he felt his body shake as the laughter rolled through him again.

One hand moved from his face to somewhere out of range. "Doc should be here in a second." Ronon squinted at him. "You remember anything?"

A flash of light. Knives in his brain. John shuddered and closed his eyes against the pain.

The hand returned, gripping his neck and face. "Open your eyes, John." The grip tightened. "Come on, buddy. We just got you back. You're home. Safe."

Safe. John forced his eyes open and locked gazes with Ronon. "Team?"

Ronon's eyes widened at the hoarse whisper. "We're good. Teyla is feeding Torren, and McKay's in his lab doing science stuff."

The beeping slowed slightly. When the privacy curtain slid open, Ronon stepped back to let Keller near. After a vitals check and the dreaded penlight, Keller performed a sensory exam then tested his reflexes and hearing. By the time she finished, John was sitting upright and mentally rehearsing his plea for a cheeseburger.

Keller smiled and placed a warm hand on his shoulder. "Everything appears normal, but I'd like to keep you overnight for observation, if that's okay."

John wiggled against the soft pillow and plucked at the fuzzy blanket, relishing in the feel of everything. "Sure, Doc." He hesitated, unsure if he really wanted to know the answer. "What happened to me?"

"I'll have to leave the technical details to Rodney. The short version is the moon, space station, whatever it was, recognized you and Rodney as having the ATA gene so it beamed you to the medical facility where a device began a memory dump."

John winced as the sensation of stabbing knives returned. "What memories was it trying to take?"

Keller tipped her head to the side. "According to the information Rodney downloaded, it wasn't trying to take anything. He says the device was designed to copy your memories and store them in the database for further analysis."

"Hell of a way to get a mission report," John muttered. "Could've just asked."

"I've read reports of Ancient devices that did the opposite – actually downloaded information into human brains, almost killing the person involved." Keller's expression turned grim. "The problem is being human instead of Ancient. Our brains are not capable of the same activity as the Ancients."

John let that soak in. "So, if I'd been an Ancient…"

"In all likelihood, the process would have quick and painless."

"And McKay?" If the machine had hurt him that much, what had it done to Rodney?

Keller glanced at Ronon, obviously trying to hide a smile. "He is fine."

Ronon chuckled. "He's pissed. Guess the thing had a harder time working on him because his gene is fake."

Keller's shoulders began to shake. "He, uh…" She pinched her nose, swallowing a laugh. "His mind interpreted the device as a woman trying to trap him."

John grinned at the image of McKay running from a woman who wanted him for his mind. Then the smile faded as the full implications hit him. "And if she, I mean the device had finally pinned him down?"

The humor left Keller's face. "It did. He said she pinned him just as Ronon hit reset. If Ronon hadn't reset it before the download started… Well, it was the only thing that saved his mind. And yours."

"I don't understand."

Ronon's eyes darkened. "Teyla and I couldn't see the controls to turn it off. McKay says it was some kind of safeguard against non-Ancients trying to use it. Teyla couldn't even find the reset button."

John looked to Keller. "Her Wraith DNA?"

"I think so. We know Ancient tech has a mental component. I guess it can affect those without the gene if it wants."

"Or maybe the Ancients learned something from the Wraith," Ronon suggested. "The way they can make you see stuff that isn't there."

"That's possible," Keller said. "We really need to go back and study the facility."

John shook his head. "Too dangerous."

"Only to those with the ATA gene. Or Wraith DNA," Keller added.

Fear tingled in John's chest. "What happened to Teyla?"

"The place beamed her to a stasis chamber in another section," Ronon said.

"No experiments or anything?"

"Nope. And before you ask, it didn't do anything to me." Ronon grinned. "I guess it didn't think a plain human was much of a threat."

"Guess you showed it."

Ronon's grinned widened. "Yep."

"I'll leave you boys to it. Call me if you need anything." Keller patted John's shoulder a final time and left, passing Teyla who was wreathed in smiles.

"It is good to see you awake, John." Teyla pressed her forehead to his. "We have been concerned."

"Me, too," John replied, relieved to see her whole and healthy, just like Ronon had said. "How long have we been home?"

Teyla released a shaky breath and stepped back. "Two very long days."

"Two days? No wonder I'm starving."

"Perhaps a cheeseburger would help?"

"Absolutely. With lots of…" John narrowed his eyes. "Am I that predictable?"

"Yes. In fact," she glanced over her shoulder at the empty spot where Ronon had been, "I believe it should be here soon. With lots of onion."

Secretly delighted that his team knew him well enough to know his favorite indulgence, he asked, "What if I was going to say I wanted extra tomato?"

Teyla smiled indulgently. "Since you remove the tomato every time, I doubt you would have said that. However, Ronon is only a radio call away. If you wish extra tomato…"

"No, no. I prefer onion."

"That is good to hear." Teyla glanced over her shoulder again then perched on the side of his bed and lowered her voice. "Ronon is finally allowing himself to grieve over all he lost. I believe he requires our help."

John tilted his head in confusion. "What kind of help?"

"Help to let go. He has mentioned many different rituals and ceremonies, including one that releases the spirit of a loved one." Teyla's gaze lost focus and her voice softened. "The release is really more for the one left behind. A way to be free of the pain of the past."

Something they could all use. "What do we have to do?"

"I am unsure of the specifics, but I believe Elizabeth kept detailed recordings of what Ronon shared of his homeworld." Teyla smiled sadly. "We would need to go to Sateda."

John didn't hesitate. "Whatever it takes. You find out what we need to do and I'll arrange the trip."

"A trip?" McKay's voice preceded him into the curtained area. "You've been a vegetable for two days," he stalked inside, "and you want to take a trip?"

"Well, not right now, Rodney," John drawled. "Maybe after dinner."

"I knew it. You have brain damage. Severe damage, judging by your asinine idea of flying a jumper after an Ancient device almost _ate your brain_."

Teyla giggled then pressed her hand to her ear. "Excuse me for a moment. Apparently Torren has spilled a jar of dye on his head."

McKay watched her leave. "You sure that kid isn't yours?"

"Rodney!" John glared at him. "I hope I'm there when she breaks you in half."

McKay shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm just saying he acts more like you than her." He plopped in a chair and folded his arms over his chest. "Maybe you should stop spending so much time with him."

John opened his mouth, a verbal dart ready to fire, but hesitated. He and Rodney had made arguing an art form, but this felt different. The mischievous glint in McKay's eyes was missing, and the edge to his voice was sharper than usual. "Spit it out."

McKay shifted slightly. "Spit what out?"

"Whatever has your drawers in a knot, McKay."

"I do not have my drawers in a knot, thank you very much." McKay's ears turned red, a sure sign he was lying, and his fingers fisted in his shirtsleeves. "I just don't want to have to listen to the kid cry when you leave."

"When I leave?" John gaped at McKay. "What the hell are you talking about?"

McKay's lips thinned and whitened. "That offer from O'Neill."

John stared in confusion until his abused brain dredged up O'Neill's email. "Oh."

"Yes, oh."

"Wait a minute. That was an eyes-only communiqué."

McKay snorted. "Like that isn't a neon sign flashing, 'Read me, Rodney.' You didn't seriously think I would let that go by."

John hadn't actually thought about it. The shock had washed all clear thought from his mind.

"The thing is, I haven't spotted your reply," McKay continued. "What's the holdup?"

"Haven't made a decision."

"So, you are considering it."

And John could hear it – the slight waver in his voice that only showed up when he was hurt and trying not to show it. "I have to. He's a superior officer."

"And yet it wasn't an order. Strange, that. Didn't know the Air Force gave you a choice."

"They do sometimes." But this was an exception. O'Neill was an unorthodox officer and former SG team leader. He knew what it meant to walk away from a team. O'Neill wasn't going to force him to do it.

McKay took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, dropping his arms and leaning forward. "It's a great opportunity, John. What's the problem?"

"If you read that communiqué, you know what the problem is."

"Yeah, I can see how helping develop military strategy for all stargate operations and specifically Pegasus could be a problem."

John studied McKay for a moment, calculating the odds of him dropping it. Not likely. "Do you understand what that means?"

"I am a genius, Sheppard. I assure you I understand what that means, probably better than you."

"O'Neill wants to develop a cohesive military approach for all bases of operations. That's every outpost in the Milky Way, the expeditions they've sent to the Ori and Asgard galaxies and all the garrisons they are planning on establishing in Pegasus."

"Yes, yes, and you would be traveling all over Pegasus and back to Earth on a regular basis which means you'd be too busy to be on an exploratory team. I get that. If you're worried about us, stop being an idiot. Teyla has her family and her people. I've got a staff of minions that need my constant supervision, and you know that Ronon could lead his own team. Again I ask, what's the problem?"

Everything McKay said was true. He'd been telling himself the same thing for the past week. The problem wasn't them. The problem was him. He wasn't sure he could let them go. He would still see them, but only sporadically. Plus what they had now – this bond of team, of family – would slowly fade. On the other hand, O'Neill had asked for John because he needed someone who really knew what was going on in Pegasus, someone he trusted to tell him the truth and not what he wanted to hear. Having O'Neill's ear, shaping military strategy, making decisions for Pegasus based on the recommendations of people like Teyla and Ronon could do more to protect his friends than anything he could do alone.

Rodney leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling. "Of course, not being in the field would suck. I bet it was a hard transition for O'Neill. Then again, he was at least fifteen years older than you when he stepped away from his team." He rolled his head to the side and gazed at John. "You still have a few good years left."

John's brows shot up. "A few? You and I are the same age."

"Who told you that?"

"You mean you think you're the only one who can hack a file?"

McKay sat up straight. "I'm going to banish Zelenka to the waste management system for the rest of his life."

John rolled his eyes. "And you're calling me an idiot? You told me what year you were born in when you gave me your computer password."

"And you remembered it?"

John folded his hands behind his head and grinned.

"What are you going to tell O'Neill?"

"O'Neill?" Ronon strolled in with the juiciest burger John had seen in ages; he tried not to drool. "That general who helped us get back here from Earth?"

John swallowed, doing his best to not look pathetic. "Yeah, him. Thanks for getting that, big guy."

Ronon dragged a chair over and sprawled in it. "Who says this is for you?"

"Aw, come on. I'm starving."

"You haven't answered the man's question yet."

Teyla walked in, holding a sniffling Torren whose hair and face were covered in bright green. "We have been waiting for your answer for a week."

John looked from one to the other, a strange mix of relief and embarrassment whirling inside him. He really should have known. They let him pretend he had secrets, but they had learned to see through him a long time ago. They were more than a team. They were family, and O'Neill had known it. Which was why he'd given John an out. If John didn't want the assignment, O'Neill would offer it to Lorne. They had worked together at the SGC, and O'Neill trusted him. A trust that John shared. Lorne had great respect for Teyla and Ronon, and he wasn't afraid to speak his mind. Pegasus would be well represented.

"I'm not going anywhere. Now, hand over that burger."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Written for the 2010 SGA genficathon. Thanks to kristen999 for the beta._


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